


Sounds Like Broken Records Playing Over.

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5X05 SPOLIERS, Angst, Hurt, M/M, cheating!ian, even though it fucking hurts, from the promo, i had too, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:38:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3278765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey stands up, nose flaring, heart tearing at the fact Ian still wasn't telling the truth. “That what you call leaving the club with some fairy while I wait around for you like some bitch, huh?” He stands up, ready to face Ian like he had rehearsed in his mind a hundred times before. </p><p>((Basically the 5x05 promo and my own added extra at the end of how I think it might go))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounds Like Broken Records Playing Over.

**Author's Note:**

> it fucking hurts, it fucking hurts. But I know that we all need the annual Gallavich heartbreak, because it is Shameless afterall? However, we do have the spoilers such as; 5x10 boyfriend moments and the factor of someone seeing the boys singing, laughing drunkingly near the end of filming. So, we will die for what seems a lifetime but aslong as the writers make sure they are okay in the end lul. I weirdly love angst because it makes their love stronger
> 
> im a sap

Something is wrong, very wrong. Mickey knew it ever since Svetlana had told him Ian had left the FairyTale with some fucking dick, and specifically telling him he looked more than willing to go. Svetlana had tried to cover for him, telling Mickey it was some bullshit she _might_ seen but he wasn't being lied too, anything but fucking that. Mickey waited, waited all night for his ass to get back home, but nothing. Mickey noticed the changes, Ian's obsessive impulses with cleaning the house, firing a gun, taking things to the extreme. He had only noticed when Ian had hoarded up the suitcases, all of them displayed to the world on his fucking porch. Ian was frantic, worse than Mickey had seen before, fuck, _he ain't sick._

 

Maybe. 

 

No. 

 

Fuck. 

 

All Mickey can see, feel and  _know_ is that some creep has put his hands on him,  _with_ Ian's permission. Fuck, Mickey knew he gave everything. He knows they were never the happy-dappy shit that couples usually are but they are doing fucking fine how they are. Mickey knew they were as open as we ever will be, Ian knew that. Didn't he. Maybe fucking not now he's out fucking some viagroid. Mickey showed him, he may not of said it but he sure as fuck showed him. Ian's the most observant shit he's ever know, Ian fucking  _knows._

 

The door swings open and Mickey's sat here like a bitch, cuddling a bottle as his kid is staring holes into his fucking head. Ian stomps in like a troop in action, his eyes straight a head when he goes to the kitchen. His voice draws Mickey from his fixation on the glass of hsi bottle. “Hey, you watching Yevgeny?” Mickey knew it straight away that he hasn't had any sleep, fucker never sleeps. 

 

Mickey says the first thing that pops into his head, because its been burying holes and trenches inside of my brain ever since Svetlana had said what she saw. “Where you been?” he see he's hardly covered, Mickey sees he has a bag on his back that's packed with some sort of shit, that clearly he didn't want to see. 

 

Ian just straight up replies, like he had just gone out to the shop and bought some nappies. “crazy night.” Now Mickey wants to rip his fucking head off, show him how angry he was. All he could remind himself was that he gotta keep calm though, last time he beat him up he regretted it- still fucking regretted it- besides, Mickey had to keep atleast one thing away from scarring his kid. 

 

Mickey stands up, nose flaring, heart tearing at the fact Ian still wasn't telling the truth. “That what you call leaving the club with some fairy while I wait around for you like some bitch, huh?” He stands up, ready to face Ian like he had rehearsed in his mind a hundred times before. 

 

Ian turns from the window, his bag still slung over his shoulder. One hand is in his pocket as he walks over to Mickey who is burning up by the second. “You're welcome.” He chucks a roll of money to Mickey, showing no emotion as Mickey struggles to get a hold of it. 

 

Mickey stares at the notes,  _what the fuck?_ It was obvious to him that either Ian was working back at the club or he was selling himself for sex. Either way he didn't fucking like it. His eyes lock with Ian's as he questions each tiny scenario that could of gotten Ian the money. Piece by piece his heart shattering because he knew it wasn't going to be good. “Where'd you get this?” he opens the money in his palm, eyes scanning to count it all. 

 

Ian shifts around in the kitchen, as if he couldn't control himself from moving. He uses his hoodie to open the top off his beer, shrugging his shoulders in a way to brush it off. “From a producer, for the movie.” the top comes off the beer and he stares a head at Mickey who is still counting the money. 

 

Mickey's neck creeps up red, but not from its usual encounter. The heat was his anger, he could feel it rising and he wasn't going to let it out, he couldn't. Eyes not leaving the money he asked, “What movie?” 

 

Ian leans against the corner, sipping at his beer. “I did a porno.” he drops his bag against the floor, looking up at Mickey like what he had just said was nothing but a few words. 

 

“You did what?” Mickey's voice was soft, too soft. As soon as Ian said what he had done he felt nothing but a drop in his stomach, his heart failing. Ian had fucked another guy, on camera, just for a couple of bucks. It was betrayal he felt, no, it was fucking hurt. Ian was looking at him with those ambitious eyes, the light shinning out of him like he was a star up in the sky, but yet, he couldn't work out that Mickey _actually_ wanted him to himself, they were together now. How could Ian just fuck another guy and expect Mickey to be happy about it, even if it was for money they might need. 

 

Ian sways on the spot his voice positive. “Hey, you said we needed the money.” He puts his freehand into his pocket, eyes blinking like the innocent child he once was. Mickey could see that Ian thought he had done the right thing, because they needed money, but not fucking like this. Not getting money because Ian was selling himself. 

 

“Some queen told you he'd pay you to do a porno and you thought “yeh, that's a good idea.”?” There was something wrong, he could see that now. Ian wasn't himself, _Ian_ wouldn't go fuck some twink just to get a lousy 600 bucks. 

 

Ian tilted his beer, hand still in his pocket. “He said he would only give me five hundred but I talked him up to six.” he pulled the bottle up to his lips, sipping at the liquid his eyes still not leaving Mickey. 

 

The smaller boy felt his stomach twist, bending in a painful position that affected his heart. He throws the money to the table, he couldn't touch it without thinking of someone else’s hands on  _his_ Gallagher. This was fucked up. He had fucked up. He glared at it, feeling its constant reminder and laugh-in- his – face telling him that Ian had gotten laid for some creep with a camera. Jesus, what was he meant to do, Ian was falling and falling fast. Can you tell someone that? Could he tell Ian that?

 

Ian puts the beer down behind him, “Don't worry, the guy who did the scene said he was clean.” His eyes did the blink, again, his other hand falling into place in his other pocket. Mickey was still trying to process what Ian had actually done, just for money. The anger was washing away, nothing but hurt and sadness that Ian was actually going out doing these things. The fact, that Mickey wasn't able to control him, help him out, keep him from going ape-shit. He didn't know what to do. 

 

Clean? Wait. “He didn't use a rubber?!” Mickey's eyebrows shoot right up, his hands clenching in a way he hadn't felt in a while. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Mickey was shouting now, eyes pointing to Ian who was still, lazily leaning against the cooker. 

 

The redhead gets up, his voice calm. “Fuck, relax Psycho.” A smile was resting on his lips, nothing matching to what Mickey was feeling. Ian reaches out to grab him, still not registering that Mickey was fucking hurt and angry right in front of him. 

 

As he steps forward Mickey steps back, not letting the gap between them get any smaller. That's when he noticed it, the glint in Ian's eye that specifically wasn't  _his._ This wasn't Ian, this was someone else. Mickey didn't notice how soft, scared and little his voice came out but his heart was crashing too loudly to care. “You are out of your fucking-

 

Ian goes a head to touch him, his hand ready to wrap around him like they always did. Mickey shakes his head, eyes roaming every part of Ian's body. “Don't touch me.” he couldn't have those hands on him, not after someone else had hold of him. Someone else had the privilege of Ian that Mickey wished was only his. 

 

Ian's eyes change, a sorrowful, weak and fragile look spreading across his features. They stood only chests apart, both looking at each other like the day Ian had left for the army. Only, this time it was worse. Ian takes a couple of seconds to say anything back, still in shock that Mickey had suddenly become defensive his words parallel to day Mickey had beat the crap out of him.  _Don't fucking touch me. “_ What the fucks up with you?” 

 

Mickey clicks his jaw, pushing the words out of his throat because he knew he didn't really want to say them.  _Dont-- Don't what?_ Ian was not Ian, this was not right. “You need to pack your shit.” His eyes looked away, not wanting to capture Ian's face after he said it. Only that could change his mind, and right now he needed this break. Ian needed this break. As soon as he said it he knew he would regret it, he always did. 

 

Ian's eyes glazed over, his heart shattering in a second like he had been pushed through double doors. “What?” his voice was almost a whisper, not yet comprehending what the other boy had said. 

 

Mickey whipped his head around to face away, sucking in a breath as he felt his eyes suddenly turn into a puddle of tear. “I said pack your fucking shit, you're going home.” He heard Ian shift from behind him, already knowing that the taller boy was trying to get closer. Ian's hand landed on his shoulder but he pushed it back. “Get the fuck off me.” 

 

Ian flinched, shaking on the spot. “But this is my home.” it had been ever since he got back, it wasn't the house or the shitty furniture that made it  _home._ It was the people in it, especially Mickey. Ian didn't understand, hell, he didn't know why Mickey was pushing him away when all he had done was make a little bit of money. 

 

Mickey wiped under his nose, lifting his head up from the direction of the floor. His eyes caught to Yevgeny who he knew was pleading for Ian to lift him, he walked over to the high chair. “Go, home Ian, to your family. I can't control you, you're are out of your fucking mind.” shit, he didn't mean to say it. Picking Yev up he bounced him on his hip, barging past Ian without a glance towards him. 

 

“I'm your boyfriend I'm not meant to be controlled!” Ian finally shouted, his hands slapping against his jeans. Mickey stopped his movements, hand clutched to a milk bottle on the counter. 

 

“If I'm your _boyfriend_ you wouldn't have gone out making some porno, huh?” He headed for the bedroom, deliberately missing Ian's grip to his wrist. “I ain't sitting here like some fucking mug while you go high as a kite fucking some other guy, you should know now that I'm not a fucking tool. A'right.” 

 

Ian sighed, one hand threading through the red stands on his head. “You said we were short of money, what else could I do?"

 

Mickey laughed through a shaky breath, "What else- find a fucking job, maybe sell some of them pills we fished out, you could of fucking _asked_ me. Jesus Christ Ian."Ian tried to touch him again, his mouth opening to speak. Mickey pushed him back, his breathing still hard against his chest. “No, I don't want to hear it Ian. You need to understand that you are worth more than six hundred fucking bucks, you can't sell yourself like that. There is something going on your head and I don't know what to fucking do! you need to go home. Get your shit, I can't do this, not today.” Mickey slammed the door to his bedroom, placing Yev on the bed as he sunk to the floor. He didn't want to hear Ian's slowed footsteps walk around the house, he couldn't bare to think that they might not be there one day.

 


End file.
